Posts Tagged ‘Fentanyl Patch’


My current state is over-running my existence, so this is where I am taking the leap to real time. In short, all the the Docs gave their enthusiastic “go for it”, I dumped the Fentanyl patch in late November and we took our first and only shot at baby-making in early December. This being clearly wanted to happen.

About 8 weeks in I had that terrifying spotting, a symptom that leaves you feeling like this whole thing may be a figment of your evil imagination. I begged and bothered the nurse line enough to get an early ultrasound, a new level of “crazy expecting mom” for me. We left the hospital with our first two pictures of the healthy baby – deemed bugaboo until birth by my husband and 5 year old.

Much of this pregnancy is like any other, the morning sickness has brought me to my knees and I am praying that it won’t extend a day beyond today. Working full time has had its challenges, I am holding onto my sick days like they are gold. The chronic pain stepped up a notch after the patch, but is still bearable with the help of the low-dose vicodin.  Having left the danger zone of the first trimester, I will begin weaning off of those pills next week. Feels like I’m climbing that first clicking hill of the roller coaster and the ride down will either thrill me or send me into a dark oblivion.

I have a pregnancy tracking app that delivers a little piece of inspiration to me everyday. My daughter especially loves the ones that associate the size of the baby to a piece of fruit, studying the pictures of lemons and apples  carefully. Yesterday she put her little hand on my belly and, squealing, felt the beginning kicks of our precious avocado, in that moment I felt no pain.


24 therapies in 4 years.

Still naively sure there was simple answer; I headed back to my GP. She recommended me to the local pain clinic for treatment of scar tissue and nerve damage. If only it had been that simple.

I have tried the following to end this pain:  Steroid shots into my rib cage, neurological medications, anti-depressants, heating pads, a tens unit, bio-feed back, gluten free, caffeine free, alcohol free diets, chiropractic, acupuncture, ERCP for SOD 3, gas-ex, fiber, birth control pills, yoga, yogurt, therapy, weigh loss, meditation, a standing desk, every pain med on the market, patches, physical therapy and osteopathy.

Every time a  method fails I suffer the pain of a break-up; You were suppose to be the one who would fill this void, but you’re useless like all the rest. I have never had the heart to completely give up, I have, however, had plenty of Docs give up on me.  They just plain run out of ideas and either apologize or tell me I’m crazy. I make them feel inept.

The constants for me in the last two years have been vicodin and fentanyl patches. In combination, at fairly low dose I can keep things at a dull roar. Its like having a headache in your ribcage, all day, everyday. If I took the meds it would require to take the pain out completely, I would lose my life drooling in bed.

Peeing on a Stick

My legs are crawling, I have an intense migraine, I can barely concentrate long enough to  tell you my name and I am peeing on a stick. The beauty and joy of the first term, the magic of pregnancy? Not really.

I am withdrawing from a opiate medication several times stronger that Morphine. It’s week three and Christmas Eve. I’ve ask Santa to bring me relief. It seems he’s brought me something else. The faintest blue line. My second child is quietly waging this war with me.

It’s not a surprise. I ovulated on the first day of Hanukkah and I swore I could feel the sperm hit the egg. Maybe the blessing in the last 4 years of pain has been this awareness of all things moving in my body, this awareness of a gift I never thought I’d receive.

The Littlest Rabbit

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